


don't speak

by bulletthestars



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletthestars/pseuds/bulletthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's very simple: fuck or die. (set somewhere near the end of the 2008 season)</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't speak

Nico wakes up with a pounding headache and heat coursing through his veins. There's something humming beneath his skin, he doesn't know what it is. It's unsettling. His forehead is damp with perspiration and his blonde locks cling to his cheeks.

There's someone beside Nico. He frowns, shifting, struggling to get up but it's difficult when you feel like you'd burst into flames each time there's contact with your skin. Instead, he knocks his shoulder into the person's back — he looks familiar but Nico can't be too sure. His vision's blurred, he squints and it looks like it could be anyone: Mark, Jenson... Jenson.

 _Fuck_.

'Nico?' Jenson's voice is thick with sleep, and Nico swallows hard.

'Hey,' Nico answers softly. 'Do you,' he starts, then stops realising how foolish he must sound. But Jenson doesn't speak, the silence stretches out, so Nico forces his awkwardness down his throat and continues 'Do you know where we are?'

'Was about to ask you that,' Jenson says, rolling over to face Nico. They're lying on a mattress on a floor. The room is empty save for a nondescript box by the side and a digital clock on the wall that's stuck at 04:00. There are no windows, and the paint on the walls is peeling. 'How did we get here?'

'Don't know,' Nico mumbles. His head is spinning, he blinks but his vision isn't getting clearer so he shuts his eyes and all he sees are stars behind his eyelids, burst after burst of colour.

The springs on the mattress creak. Jenson's on his feet, he's pounding at the wall, no, the door (or is it?) at the other side of the room, his gait is unsteady and the hammering isn't strong but oh it hurts, the sound feels like it's bouncing off the walls inside Nico's head.

The heat is getting worse, the flames lick at Nico's skin, something stirs in the pit of his stomach and oh god, this can't be it. He rolls over on to his side, whimpering, because fuck, how can his body be doing something like this? He doesn't even know where he is, he doesn't even know what's going on and all he's clad in is his Williams t-shirt and a pair of boxers. It doesn't make sense, how could he have left anywhere in such a state of undress, feeling like this, hot all over and terribly uncomfortable? He bites back a cry, drawing his knees up to his chest, curling into a ball. He'll be able to hide it like this, against his body, since his boxers won't do much to help him. His cheeks are flushed now, he's biting on his lower lip and no, this can't be it. This isn't arousal, god it should go down right about now, right now, _now before Jenson comes back_.

'Nico?'

Shit.

'Are you okay?' Jenson's moving closer and closer and Nico doesn't want this, he doesn't want Jenson near him like this, he tries to move away but it's useless. Jenson reaches for him and Nico lets out a cry when he feels Jenson's touch on his skin.

'Don't touch me,' Nico chokes out, refusing to look at Jenson.

'Is something wrong?' Jenson asks. 'You're burning up, I-'

'Don't touch me!' Nico repeats, desperation evident in his voice. His cheeks burn in shame and arousal, god he doesn't want Jenson looking at him when he's so on edge, feeling his cock throb with need beneath his boxers. He needs to shove a hand down to jerk himself off because it's getting worse with each moment, his erection isn't going down no matter how much he tries to will it away and there's Jenson, god he can't possibly touch himself now, not with Jenson watching him.

'Nico, if there's-'

There's something that sounds like the crackling of speakers, and Jenson jumps.

 

'Jenson Button and Nico Rosberg. Welcome.'

'Who are you?' Jenson demands, eyes narrowed. He looks around, but there are no speakers, nothing at all.

The voice is disembodied, distorted. 'That's not important, nor is it relevant to what you're about to do.'

'What do you mean?'

'It's very simple. Fuck or die.'

' _What_?'

'Fuck Rosberg, or he'll die. He has been injected with a drug that will be lethal in a few hours' time. By now he should be feeling the effects of it — hyper-arousal, increased sensitivity to touch and accelerated heart rate. The more time you waste, the worse it will get. Dehydration, shortness of breath and heart palpitations and death. Well, eventually.'

'Why us,' Nico asks. He's shaking with fear and fuck, he aches for physical contact, he wants to be touched so badly but at the same time he's afraid of what will happen afterwards. God he hates his body for acting this way but there's nothing he can do to control it any more. Why did it have to be him, of all people? Why did they have to do this to him, what has he done to deserve this? 'Why-'

'What makes you think that you're the only ones?'

The other drivers. They might've been taken too. Jenson clenches his fists. 'You can't possibly have-'

'You have four hours. If you follow your orders, Rosberg will be given the antidote.'

Static. And then nothing.

 

'Now what,' Jenson says, turning to Nico. He runs a hand through his hair, watching how Nico's staunchly remaining in his foetal position. 'Nico?'

'Don't,' Nico manages, biting hard on his lower lip. 'Don't look. Just. Just turn away.'

'Nico, I-'

' _Please_ ,' Nico adds, voice strained.

'Okay,' Jenson answers, mouth dry. He sits with his back facing Nico, on the other side of the mattress, facing the clock. The numbers move backwards.

It's a countdown timer.

 

Jenson tries not to look at the countdown timer. He stares resolutely at the ground instead, smooth grey concrete, trying hard not to think of how Nico's curled up behind him. He tries to shut off the sounds that leave Nico's lips, putting his hands out, closing his eyes, trying to visualise a circuit, any circuit. Hungaroring. Hungaroring's good, he got his first win there. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagines the lights in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Whimper.

Jenson opens his eyes immediately.

It's useless.

Forty minutes have passed according to the timer. That means that Jenson has spent forty minutes sitting here, doing nothing. There's nothing he can do to help Nico, except fucking him but god. He wouldn't be able to do it if Nico didn't want it, even if it was to save Nico. (Or really?)

 

The sound of Nico tugging his boxers down his hips echoes in the silence of the room, and Jenson swallows hard, hearing the sound of Nico spitting on his palm. He keeps his back turned to Nico but in his head he sees everything — Nico with one hand wrapped around himself, furiously pumping his cock, needing more friction, more skin to skin contact, needing more than just his hand alone. There're mewling noises, like Nico's trying hard not to make any sound but it's not working, and Jenson sucks in a deep breath. It's difficult just sitting there, back facing Nico, listening to Nico getting himself off.

There's a harsh cry, and Jenson bites hard on his lower lip.

'You alright?' Jenson asks after a while. He's rummaging through the box, he should've done so earlier but well. There's a small bottle of lube and a box of tissues and that's it. No condoms. If he goes through with the orders, he'll be fucking Nico raw. He forces the thought away, picking up the box of tissues and returns to Nico's side, making sure not to look at him. But he can still see him in his peripheral vision, boxers shoved down to mid-thigh, quivering on the mattress. He hands him the box of tissues, and when Nico's fingertips accidentally brush Jenson's hand, Jenson feels something inside him stir. There's a tiny voice in his head that whispers _you want him, don't you_ and god it's terrifying and far too dangerous for him to be thinking something like that right now.

There's no answer, save for Nico's laboured breathing and Jenson frowns. 'Nico?'

'Don't look!' Nico cries out. Then there's silence again, along with the sound of Nico moving.

Jenson closes his eyes and tries to think of something else to take his mind off what Nico's doing — he's driving at Monaco, he's just gotten out of the tunnel and he's heading towards the Nouvelle Chicane — but his thoughts inevitably return to Nico. Jenson takes a deep breath, saying 'You don't have to-'

'I can't,' Nico gasps. 'I, I- _ahh_!'

'Nico?'

It's a while before Nico speaks. 'It's not working,' he says, voice weak. 'I thought I could get rid of it but it's not working.'

The words leave Jenson's lips in a rush before he can stop himself. 'Let me help you.'

Now he's done it. He's fucked it all up.

'Jenson-'

'I,' Jenson cuts him off. He doesn't trust himself to turn back to look at Nico. 'I don't want you to die,' he says, voice quiet.

 

'You don't have to do this,' Nico says. Jenson's lying on his stomach in between his thighs, one hand around the base of Nico's cock and Nico bites his lower lip, trying hard not to moan.

'I told you, I don't want you to die. Not if I can prevent it,' Jenson says, looking up at Nico. Nico's head is turned to one side, he's determined not to look at Jenson, so Jenson returns to what he's doing. He leans in, flicks his tongue over the tip of Nico's cock and Nico cries out involuntarily.

Nico doesn't want this. Jenson's mouth feels good on him, his breath hitches when Jenson rubs his tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock, one hand braced on his inner thigh. He doesn't want Jenson to do this for him, god he's never seen Jenson as anything more than a friend and now this... He doesn't even want to think about how Jenson must be feeling, to have to do this to him, for him. The thought of it makes him sick, how can anyone be so twisted as to want them to do this to one another? The worst part is how despite how horrible he's feeling, his body wants this, wants _more_. The arousal's there, clouding his mind and when Jenson wraps his lips around his cock Nico moans, unable to stop himself now, hips bucking forward, wanting to fuck Jenson's mouth. His body's reacting instinctively to this, Jenson's hot mouth feels so good, far better than his own hand, trying desperately to get himself off. He buries his face in the crook of his arm, feeling Jenson's hand on his hip, holding him down as he takes him into his mouth.

Jenson pulls back, lapping at Nico's leaking slit, hands stroking where his tongue doesn't reach. Nico's hands fist against the mattress, and god, Jenson feels horrible. This shouldn't be happening to Nico, god this shouldn't be happening to anyone really, and it hurts because as much as Jenson knows he shouldn't want this, it's all a lie. He wants this. He wants Nico, wants to hold him in his arms and kiss him and fuck him into the mattress, wants to map his body with his fingers and learn how he moans. He's wanted him for so long, in the beginning he had told himself he shouldn't because really, he's just an old bastard without a race win. And Nico was young, so young, Jenson still remembers how he had looked when he had first entered Formula One. So eager to impress, so eager to please, charming with his ways about the paddock and everyone had been drawn to him, Keke Rosberg's son, Frank Williams' golden boy and Jenson hadn't been immune to it all. He had fallen, slowly but surely. Now he's a race winner even though his season's still shit, and Nico's car is hardly any better. The light in his eyes is still there though, the fight's still in him and Jenson had watched the Singapore podium later on, breathless, looking at the jubilation on Nico's face, cheeks wet with champagne and perspiration, thinking that he was of the heavens.

(But now, even now, god Nico's beautiful, even like this, ruined and wrecked and falling apart)

' _Jenson_ ,' Nico cries out as Jenson takes him into his mouth again. 'You don't, _ahh_ , you don't have to-'

Jenson presses down softly with his hand on Nico's hipbone. It's meant to be a reassuring gesture, but Nico jerks forward instead, and Jenson feels the tears welling up, trying hard not to gag on Nico's cock.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry oh god I just,' Nico chokes out, he's babbling now and there're tears at the corners of his eyes but he's unable to stop himself now. He's too far out and it feels far too good, Jenson's lips and tongue and fingers all over him and _fuck_ -

Jenson pulls back, and Nico comes all over his face and lips. Jenson looks up at Nico, feeling Nico tremble beneath his touch. Nico's shaking, there're tears running down his cheeks and Jenson feels awful, he wants to pull Nico into his embrace and tell him that it's okay, he doesn't mind, it's fine, but with the erection he's currently having it'll be an idiotic decision. So instead, he reaches for a couple of tissues to clean up.

 

'Feeling better?' Jenson asks. They have fifty five minutes left according to the timer, and Jenson's doing his best to sit in a position where Nico'd be unable to look at him properly. He's painfully hard, still feeling terribly aroused after sucking Nico off and he tries to will it all away but it's not working. All he can think of is Nico beneath him, writhing in pleasure, and it only serves to make things more difficult for him. So this must be how Nico's feeling, he thinks, except it's probably much worse for him.

'Sort of,' Nico replies, voice strained.

'The antidote should be coming soon,' Jenson says.

'Really?'

It has been ten minutes since Jenson had sucked Nico off, but the timer's still ticking.

'What if it's not enough.'

'What?'

'They asked you to fuck me,' Nico says bluntly, and Jenson cringes. It's one thing to hear it from a distorted voice, and another thing to hear it from the one he has desired for so long. 'Maybe that's what you have to do.'

'Nico, I-'

'Besides, you're...' Nico trails off. His gaze drops to Jenson's crotch, and Jenson feels heat rushing to his cheeks.

'This isn't some sort of... Favour you have to return,' Jenson says, voice strangled.

Nico looks away. 'Maybe it's not enough.'

 

'Have you done this before?' Nico asks, voice shaky.

'Yeah,' Jenson answers, embarrassed. 'You?'

'Couple of times,' Nico says, not daring to meet Jenson's gaze. He can see the gears turning in Jenson's head, eyes lowered as he blinks as if trying to figure out who it was that Nico had slept with before. It's all clearly written out on his face: _Who was it, Hamilton? Sutil? Kovalainen? Kubica? Nakajima? Or maybe it was Mark or Alex, someone familiar_...

'It isn't anyone on the grid.'

Jenson looks embarrassed. 'You don't have to tell me-'

'You wanted to ask.'

'Sorry.' Jenson stops. 'It was my friends from school for me. We fooled around, then someone got attached and...' He shrugs. He doesn't know why he's saying this, except that he feels obliged to reveal something about himself after what Nico has said.

Nico doesn't reply, and suddenly Jenson feels like he's said too much.

'Sorry,' Jenson says again, but it sounds hollow. 'Do you want to...' he starts, holding out the lube to Nico. He's all too aware of the implications of this. He'd offer to do it for Nico, to slick him up and prepare him but this isn't his call to make. There will be no going back once they've started.

'I don't really... I haven't...' Nico falters. His cheeks are flushed, both with arousal and embarrassment and it's all over his skin, right down to his neck. His Williams shirt is thrown aside now, completely soaked in perspiration, and he's naked before Jenson, hair falling into his eyes. 'I trust you,' he adds, and it sounds almost like an afterthought but his tone is genuine and raw and oh, it burns.

 _You really shouldn't_ is what Jenson wants to say, because he doesn't even trust himself. Not when he's got Nico's in his arms, so hot and needy. It's all he's ever wanted for so long, fuck he wants him wants to possess him and consume him whole and it overwhelms him because here it is, the opportunity that'll never come again. He's aware of how shitty it is, and he tells himself that this isn't him acting on his desires, this is him saving Nico but either way it's still a fucked up thing to do.

(Maybe it'll be different if he weren't in love with Nico, if he didn't want Nico as much as he does. Maybe he'd feel guilty and horrible and it'll gnaw away at him, he'd be angry instead of whatever he's feeling now. It feels like he's taking advantage of Nico and he doesn't want this, fuck he wants to pleasure Nico, to make him feel good because Nico wants it, not because Nico's drugged and needs to be touched and fucked until he comes over and over again.)

So instead he says 'You're going to be fine. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.' He doesn't want to lie to Nico, so this is the next best thing — it's the closest he'll ever get to the truth.

Nico looks at him, lips curled into a semblance of a grateful smile before he leans in, burying his face in Jenson's chest. 'Do it,' he murmurs against Jenson's skin.

And all Jenson can think of is _god, I'm definitely going to hell_.

 

Nico's trembling. He's shaking against Jenson as Jenson's fingers trail lower, past the swell of his arse, cold and slick with lube. He feels the press of one finger against his entrance, he sucks in a deep breath as Jenson pushes in, past the ring of muscle. How long has it been since he has last been with another man? He doesn't quite remember, it had all gone by in a blur of drunken fumbling and curiosity in the past. Then all had been forgotten when he had entered Formula One.

The stretch feels better now. Jenson's pulling out and pushing in, slowly, steadily, and Nico shudders, trying to adjust to the feeling of having something inside him. Nico's tight, so fucking tight and hot and when Jenson pushes a second finger in, Nico moans, face still buried in Jenson's chest. He doesn't want to look at Jenson. His cheeks burn in shame, he doesn't want this but his body's betraying him, his body wants to take so much more from Jenson and he feels guilty. He doesn't know how he had gotten into all this, but it's clearly his fault — Jenson wouldn't have had to fuck him if he hadn't been drugged.

Nico hisses, fingernails sinking into Jenson's skin as he arches against him. Jenson's got three fingers inside him now, stretching him open. Nico feels dizzy, anticipation builds in the pit of his stomach and his hips snap forward, rubbing his cock against Jenson's stomach. He's probably going to leave stains over Jenson's shirt but he's unable to care now, all he wants is more friction, _more_.

'Easy,' Jenson says, wincing as Nico's nails sink deeper. 'It's okay, I'm here.'

'It's not,' Nico answers. 'I'm sorry, I-'

'Don't apologise,' Jenson says softly. 'It's not your fault.'

Nico bites on the inside of his cheek. 'You should take your shirt off,' he says finally. 'We don't have much time left.'

'Right,' Jenson says, mouth dry.

 

Nico shuts his eyes when Jenson thrusts into him. Jenson's got his hands on Nico's thighs, holding them apart, and Nico presses his face into the crook of his arm, just like before, so he doesn't have to look at Jenson. So that Jenson wouldn't be able to see like this. He lets out a low whine when Jenson withdraws, but Jenson pushes back into him soon enough, and embarrassing as it is, Nico finds himself moving against Jenson, trying to get more. It's like he's trying to fuck himself on Jenson's cock even though this really isn't the position to do it.

But Jenson looks at Nico and thinks _so, so beautiful_ , with his head thrown back in pleasure and lips parted, moans falling from his lips. He wants to push his arm aside, wants to tell him that it's okay for him to enjoy this, that he doesn't have to feel embarrassed or anything but he knows that this isn't him making love to Nico. It's him fucking Nico so he'd be able to live. Of course Nico would feel humiliated and mortified and anything but pleasure as how it's supposed to be.

(See, this was never how Jenson had wanted it to be — in his head their first time would start off with awkward fumbling one sleepless night, probably in Singapore at four in the morning and afterwards he'd take his time to learn every inch of Nico, to press kisses all over his skin, to watch him slowly come undone — but things never go the way they do in Jenson's head, and this is all he has, so he'll have to take what he can get even if he knows he really shouldn't because it should only start with Nico coming to him willingly, not like this, with the threat of death looming. He isn't supposed to enjoy this, he shouldn't see this as the only way he'll have wish fulfilment but he is, so help him god.)

 

This is how it ends: Nico's hands are splayed against Jenson's chest, his breathing ragged as he rides Jenson. His face is buried where Jenson's neck meets his shoulder, and Jenson's got one hand in between the both of them, jerking Nico off. Jenson wants to go slow, he doesn't want to hurt Nico, but Nico doesn't want soft and light and tender — he needs rough and hard and fast, the loud slap of skin against skin echoing in the room as they fuck. Nico's skin is fever hot and he's tight, so fucking tight and Jenson doesn't think he's going to last, not with Nico like this. Nico makes a low, keening noise when Jenson flicks his thumb over the tip of his cock, and Jenson thinks that well, at the very least, if he's going to do this, the least he can do is to make it as good as possible for Nico. Nico shivers when Jenson touches him, and Jenson can feel Nico's lips parting against his skin.

Nico bites down hard on Jenson's shoulder when he comes, muffling his cries. He collapses against Jenson, boneless and pliant and Jenson's hands are still on Nico's hips, bouncing him up and down his cock through his orgasm. Jenson knows he should pull out, he shouldn't be doing this but fuck, he's too far out now.

 

Nico doesn't stir until much later. He's shivering, but Jenson's arms are around him, holding him close. The dull throb beneath his skin is still there, aching and persistent, coursing through his veins. 'The timer,' he whispers, trying to crane his head to look at it but Jenson pulls him closer, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

'The antidote's coming,' Jenson says.

Nico doesn't miss the quiver in his voice, but he closes his eyes, letting it slide. How many orgasms has he had, four? Five? He isn't too sure any more but it's still there, the hardness between his legs, the arousal that he cannot quite get rid of. Nothing seems to be enough and he's tired, so, so tired. His eyelids flutter close and he leans into Jenson's touch. It's comforting and even though it's too warm, it's better than having to deal with the fire under his skin on his own. His skin is slick with perspiration, his heart pounding hard and fast against his ribs as something presses down on his chest and it's getting harder and harder to breathe now.

'Don't go to sleep,' Jenson says, _begs_ , shaking Nico gently. 'Stay with me, Britney. Come on.'

'Don't call me that,' Nico murmurs, but he smiles anyway.

' _Nico_.'

'Let me rest for a bit,' Nico mumbles, shifting against Jenson. He can hear Jenson's heartbeat, _one two one two one two_ and it's soothing. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine they're back there on the track, waiting for the lights to go out, and all they can hear is the sound of their own breathing.

 _Everything's going to be fine_.

The timer's ticking.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.


End file.
